


mirage.

by undeadc0re



Series: 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓. [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Study, Childhood Friends, Dark Fantasy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Original Character(s), Pre-Canon, Psychological Torture, Schizophrenia, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28135155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undeadc0re/pseuds/undeadc0re
Summary: saeyoon looks in the mirror.someone so familiar yet so different stared back at him.
Series: 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061177
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	mirage.

Something was terribly wrong with Saeyoon.

He's known it his entire life, in the little things, in the space between his fingers barely filtering sunlight through. He's never quite faced it until he was so utterly and vacantly alone. His only source of socialization were his poor sap coworkers who look at him with pity, his own raggedy reflection, and the evil image of himself that manifested two nights prior.

Count- maybe three. Saeyoon wasn't sure of a lot anymore. Not the time of day, not what he had for breakfast, and certainly not the copy-paste version of himself taunting him at every given chance. Saeyoon would often find himself wide-eyed and frozen in the dead of night over it. Hours that were supposed to be spent sleeping were replaced with watching the shadows jump and crackle, laughing at him. He'd draw his knees up to his chest as if he could close in and away on himself. Without fail, every turning day the very creature would form from the corners of his imagination with the same world shattering grin.

Saeyoon tried- believe him, he _tried_ \- to separate this thing from himself. They might've looked the same in every obvious way: in the curve of his button nose or gentle shape of his pouty and chapped lips. In their shared ovular face or their same milky skin. There were similarities so viciously different that it was whiplashing, such as their cold cut eyes - cat-like and the color of what could only be described as a deep abyss devoid of any light or sound. This other him was colorful in ways that Saeyoon felt he could never be: pastel tracksuits cut short at the knees and ribcage, a mesh top barely concealing traces of a toned abdomen underneath. Saeyoon was a bit jealous of that fact, since he knew he could press a hand against his own stomach and his fingers would dip into the soft skin. Vibrant bandaids were scattered about his body, cuved over the bridge of his nose, just as bright butterfly clips fluttered about curly, golden hair that was silkier and longer than Saeyoon's own. Ironically, this guy was more brilliant compared to Saeyoon. He tried desperately to cover up his sadness with layers of clothing like it'd do much to begin with. Shadows under his eyes and thin scarring on the insides of his wrists whispered on how disturbed he really was. He found no peace in this look-a-like, only agonizing silence where he wished for the world to scream and overwhelming shrieks when he wished for peace. 

Often, he'd face this entity head on with what little bravery he had. He'd ask the same dreary question: _Who are you?_

Maybe it was silly. Maybe he should ask _what_ rather than _who_ , but any answers would be better than none.

Each time, he'd receive a curious tilt of the head, a crawling shark smile that stretched like cobweb veins on the creature's skin. _I'm you_.

It was that every time Saeyoon dared ask. _I'm you- you're me_. It was distressing in ways unimaginable, coiling fright in his muscles and launching his heart into his throat. At first glance, one might find him silly, perhaps even cowardly, for finding such terror into a man covered head to toe in cute and innocent decor. A man with feminine charm and one that sorely stuck out from the crowd. 

That's because no one else saw the way this absurd look-a-like licked blood from his slender fingers like he was sucking ice cream residue clean.

"Sweet like cherries." He'd sing, "I know you'd like it, Sae."

It was words like those that rattled Saeyoon to the core. Words that confirmed his darkest fears, that stirred disgust within him. To be compared to this thing in any way was stomach churning- to imply he'd like anything this thing liked made him sick.

Saeyoon knew he was crazy; he'd known it for a long time coming. The look-a-like didn't grace him with a wrongful reflection at first; as his voice clouded Saeyoon's mind long before. It was one thing that he could differentiate with relief. Look-a-like wasn't soft spoken like he was. No, he was callous at the edges, his words taking a mean approach. His laugh was grating in Saeyoon's mind, like a knife being dragged excruciatingly slow across a chalkboard. Saeyoon knew this thing only appeared for his eyes only, like a cursed gift given to him by a testy God. 

Finding out the look-a-like existed was like a bomb being dropped into his lap and exploding him backwards. That night is one that was ingrained into his memory in vivid detail until it was all he could think about. Every time he met eyes with the look-a-like, the ugly taste of stale ramen and cheap cigarette smoke filled his mouth, tongue and eyelids heavily weighted. Sleep was pulling at him, blurring his laptop scree before him into nothing but a bright beacon of white light. He knew he had to finish the track, but his eyes wouldn't focus and his ears began to ring with a buzz he couldn't shake. It was probably the side effect of staying up countless nights tweaking the smallest things, poking and prodding at his music until it came out just right. By then, his bloodstream was caffeine-infused, keeping him alive for tedious hours. 

_Click, click._

He'd blink, vision blurring. Something shifted behind him.

_Click, click_.

Cold wind breathed down the back of his neck, giving him a full body shiver. He wasn't aware that the air was on, given that the leaves were beginning to fall and autumn was on its eager way to replace the boiling heat that summer kissed them with. Saeyoon wasn't a fan of the extremes in any sense, and that included weather. He reached behind him in an attempt to snag his fingers on his hoodie to wiggle it up in favor of checking the thermostat, but when his hands pressed against something that stung, he hissed and flung his hand back forward, whipping around in the swirly chair in offense.

A gasp was caught in his throat instead when he saw another person- unfamiliar and definitely not of the studio- standing before him with a grin that reminded him of The Joker. Comical, if he wasn't so worn down from the day's work. He blinked a few times, eyelashes fluttering, panicked. The grin didn't falter, the sight before him didn't waver. He was used to the whispers. He was used to hearing the intrusive jabs that urged him to do something terrible. Stab his coworker with a pen. Shove someone in traffic as he impatiently waited in the cold for a bus. Do something terrible. Something bloody.

Saeyoon was able to brush them off like they were dust on his shoulders, but seeing something come of it was something entirely new. In any normal circumstance, his heart would pick up in panic, but it remained slow pumping and normal. He couldn't bring himself to shake out of the exhausted stupor he was stuck in, just staring at the man before him- was it even a man? Was it even a _perso_ _n_?

No, it couldn't be. Saeyoon was looking at a reflection- as if someone opened a game of Sims with his face and randomized the hair and outfit. It was differently himself and he couldn't seem to find it in himself to process it completely.

"Oh, pick up your jaw, handsome. You look like a fish out of water and let me just say...it's not a very attractive look for you." Not-Him said, his tone pitching in amusement, and Saeyoon's metaphorical shackles rose. This voice- he could recognize this voice clearly. It belonged to his thoughts, twisting his day-to-day processes until he couldn't forget the evil things it wanted him to do. Not-Him must've noticed that his eyes were wide open, because he cackled at him.

"God!" He wheezed, "God! You never really listen. Now you look..." Saeyoon trailed off through the comparison, because he knew the voice had a habit of mocking him like it was standing in front of him and watching him act the part of the clown. Saeyoon could see the invisible finger wag at him, giving him jeer after jeer after jeer after-

"Who..." His own voice was frail to his ears, wobbling with debility and dipping further, further, "Who _are_ you?"

"Me?" Not-Him- could never be him, not in a million years, not ever- mused, crossing his arms and looking contemplative, "Well, I thought it was as plain as day who I was."

"I don't know your name." Saeyoon pointed out, fingers curling tightly over the arms of his chair. They were torn, slightly, from where he picked at it in the past over contemplative thoughts and unmotivation, "I don't know who you are."

"You really don't know?" Not-Him snorted, "Seriously?" 

A pause of silence. The staring contest they held seemed to draw on for _ages_. Saeyoon figured the intent was to get him to squirm, and honestly, a part of him wanted to. Alarm bells sounded in his head, trying to drive him away from this manifestation before him. Not-Him seemed to smile wider at that.

_Cute._ The voice burst through his brain, pounding against his skull and forcing Saeyoon's eyebrows to furrow at the sudden pain. _It's really cute how you're still lost. I can't believe you haven't connected the dots this far._

Ah.

Saeyoon blinked the sleep from his eyes.

Of course. The voice, his own face alight with mirth- he was a bit slow from his fatigued daze, but he had to have known that the two went hand in hand. Not-Him saw the realization dawn on him and giggled. It was a melodic, clean sound that didn't match the grotesque words he often slewed. Saeyoon leaned back in his creaking chair, eyes darting to the ceiling as he counted down from thirty. This time, the laugh only seemed to grow in volume, not drowning away like he practiced so hard to do before. The caffeine caused his heart to skip a beat, but the fear made his palms clammy and dread pool in his chest.

"Kim?" A new, real voice asked in slight concern. His attention shifted to the door of his studio, slightly cracked open with a rough-looking face peeking inside. It was one of the self-produced rappers he was acquainted with. He probably stayed behind to perfect his recording, doing what every ambitious creator did. That's why Saeyoon still lingered, after all, and a part of him was regretful that he didn't go home at sundown like he promised himself he'd do. At least in the privacy of his own home, he could have a crisis and not be worried about someone seeing him for the wreck he really was. He already had a poor reputation for being on the odder end of the scale, but he wasn't seen as clinically insane just yet.

"Yes?" His voice sounded faraway, a bit breathless. This caused the rapper- Lee Jungsuk, if Saeyoon remembered correctly- to furrow his eyebrows. He was probably suspicious that Saeyoon was getting off or something, but that was far from the truth. Saeyoon straightened his posture in his chair, clearing his throat, as if that'd make a difference. Not-Him watched out of the corner of his eye, giving him a creeping smile.

"Just thought I'd tell you that I'm heading out. I don't think anyone else is in the studio, so it's just you now..." Jungsuk hesitated, "Are you okay, man? You look a little out of it and this place reeks of something sweet...are you lighting one up or something?" His mouth quirked in a hesitant, unsure smirk. "Not that no one has broke the _no smoking_ policy before, but..."

"No, no, I don't- I don't smoke, but I really should, shouldn't I?" He laughed, brushing a hand through his dull hair. He really needed to give it treatment, when he felt how frayed it was under his fingers. When his coworkers said it was the color of dying embers- they were right, since it felt the part just as much. "God, I'm so stressed out."

"'Cause of deadlines?" Jungsuk guessed. Saeyoon wasn't stupid; Jungsuk was just as off put by him as the others, but he was more polite than most around. Some wouldn't even give Saeyoon the courtesy of alerting him that he was leaving, but Jungsuk was different. He tried to be kind, despite how tough he looked. He was just making small talk until he could find and outing.

"I'd agree with him, but something tells me that it's because of me." Not-Him said, suddenly standing beside the rapper as though they were buddy-buddy. He toyed a blade in his hand, the handle a petty periwinkle. It looked sparkly in the dim lighting. Without another word, Not-Him flipped open the blade and dug it into his palm, ripping downward until the delicate skin split open and spurted blood messily onto the floor. Saeyoon cringed.

Yeah. He needs to give Jungsuk that relief.

"Kind of." He answered, too quick for his own liking, "I'm not feeling well- I think I've been wasting away in here lately." He laughed, awkwardly, and Jungsuk joined in. It wasn't funny, not at all, but at least he felt less insane. "Makes me feel like I'm losing my mind."

Not-Him scoffed, "Yeah. Sure."

"The studio has a habit of that, doesn't it?" Jungsuk's friendly chuckles died out, "Go home, man. You don't look so good." 

Saeyoon could only imagine what Jungsuk saw. He gave a shaky smile.

"I'll be out in thirty. Thanks for letting me know." He gave a polite nod of his head, waiting until the door clicked soundly shut before exhaling deeply. God, what a close call. Maybe Jungsuk would go out to the bar with their other coworkers and tell them what he saw. 

_Kim Saeyoon was acting weird again. Did you see him in the studio earlier? That guy is going out of his damn mind..._

It wasn't something he hasn't heard before. He knew what some of the people thought about him and he didn't attempt to be their friend over it. He usually avoided the people who chose to stir rumors over him rather than actually speak to him. He couldn't blame them. If he was normal, he'd be cagey towards someone who behaved just as aberrant as he did. It was their natural instincts to move away from the stranger of the field. Someone too eccentric for their heads to wrap around. Then again, no one really understood mental health around them. He had rappers moaning about being depressed in their songs, but Saeyoon couldn't help but wonder if they were saying it to get attention from people who could relate or if they truly knew what it felt like?

Saeyoon would listen himself when peer reviewing. He wondered if he had depression, sometimes, and then a screech would ring his head, mushing his brain, and he knew what he had was worse. Way worse, but to what degree?

Rubbing his temples, Saeyoon had faced Not-Him with a bemused look. He was tired, he wanted to go home and lay down, preferably without thoughts of wanting to plot untimely demises that made his fingers twitch in desire to act them out. 

Not-Him smiled back, as if he had stopped smiling in the first place. Saeyoon tasted stale ramen and cheap cigarette smoke, his eyes heavy enough to close.

Jungsuk hadn't even pointed out the other person in the room.

When he opened them again, he was in bed. His comforter was thrown askew and his head was sinking into the pillow. After the initial tiresome daze passed back into alertness, Saeyoon jostled, startled. The weight on his chest was crushing, fearing the caving of his rib cage, and his fingers curled frantically at his throat, trying to suck in air through the clutched airway. His eyes bugged out, terrified that he'd die from some unknown force in bed. He didn't have anything set up; he didn't get to say goodbye to his mother, who would've wanted a last sentiment from her only remaining family. When he went to roll over to relieve the pressure, he found himself pinned back to his original position by his shoulders. Looking up, expecting some alien face of an intruder, he was met with Not-Him. Undeniably Not-Him, features shadowed from the night, but _him_. 

Saeyoon could feel the irony taste of blood bubble in his mouth and he gurgled out a bewildered, anxious inquiry. Was this even possible? If Saeyoon was the only one who could see him, then by his previous mental easings, didn't that mean this thing wasn't harmful to him in other ways than just constant nagging. 

Saeyoon choked on his own blood. Not-Him laughed. It was the worst time to have no words be said. 

Just as he felt the last of his oxygen run out, Saeyoon bolted upright in bed, inhaling so sharply his lungs felt like they were on fire. A chuckle sounded in his otherwise quiet bedroom, but he didn't pay it no immediate mind. His hands, shaking and clammy, rose to his face to press against his cheeks- warmed and damp from perspirations. He felt cold all over, conflicting with the heat that burrowed in the crevices of his body. Only when his breathing returned to normal and he no longer felt like he was on the verge of a heart attack did he glance over to his desk, instinctively drawn to scout out the danger there. Not-Him was sitting in the chair, heels kicked out and slowly rockig himself back and forth. He looked smug about something- Saeyoon wanted to know what.

"Man, you look like a wreck. Blood does not color you well." Not-Him said, laughing dryly when Saeyoon's hands flung to his mouth, pressing his finger pads on his tongue and pulling back, expecting to see crimson staining his saliva. Instead he saw the blush-pink color of his finger tips, nothing unordinary to be seen. Not-Him laughed louder at seeing that, once again, Saeyoon was an idiot.

"You're so gullible," He leaned back, the chair wailing with the movement, "but I'm a liar. I think blood would look great on you if applied _juuuust_ right."

Saeyoon's eyes burned with how wide they were. His hands felt to the comforter, twisting it nervously between his hands. He couldn't look away from Not-Him; it was near impossible to feel safe if he removed his line of sight to this creature's movements. Not-Him reached up, cocking his head a bit so he could allow himself to twirl rich blonde hair between his fingers as though he were lost in thought.

"I've been thinking about this arrangement and how much it sucks," Not-Him continued when Saeyoon didn't respond to his previous taunts, "Like- you don't ever do much to be entertaining. All you really do is sit there and just take it like a bitch. Sure, you'll react to the immediate joke, but it never lasts long enough to sustain me."

Saeyoon could hear a promise in this statement, as Not-Him never spoke without cause or reason. There was always a motive behind his otherwise senseless babbles and it all had to do with a grizzly demise of some innocent soul that was within radius of him. He wanted Saeyoon to act out and get his hands dirty for what he assumed to be because Not-Him couldn't do it physically himself. From somewhere far away, Saeyoon remembered a quote he picked up either through the Internet or through other means: _Some people just want to watch the world burn_.

Yeah. He felt like this applied to Not-Him, sitting across his room, an eager smile crawling on his mouth as he played with his own hair.

"A penny for my thoughts? Isn't that the phrase?" Not-Him asked despite Saeyoon not doing anything to provoke such a response, but that was also to be expected, "Hm. Well. I guess the only thing left to say is..." His eyes flickered, burning into Saeyoon's, "Guess you'll have to learn to live with me, huh?"

Saeyoon's mouth was dry and he felt his entire body wear with exhausted as he rolled his gaze to the ceiling, slowly lowering himself back down to his mattress. It felt stiff under his back and he belatedly complained that his pile of clothes that he shoved in the corner would be more comfortable than this. Though, he wrote it off as his defensive fear in the end. 

While his mouth felt filled with cotton and his mind scattered to somewhere beyond, Saeyoon couldn't help the dry and snarky response when he spoke at last:

"Haven't I been doing that already?"


End file.
